


Clothes Don't Make the Man

by Robin Hood (kjack89)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 16:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14265435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/Robin%20Hood
Summary: Carisi shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t just that,” he said, a little uncomfortably. "I, uh, I overheard some lawyers talking not too long ago and, uh, one of 'em made a comment about, uh, my 'bargain rack' charm..."He trailed off and Barba's stomach clenched. "Funny," he said, even though there was nothing remotely amusing about it. "That almost sounds like something I would say."Because it was.Because Barba could remember saying it.





	Clothes Don't Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Power-Bottom-Barba (Cap_Against_The_Clap)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Against_The_Clap/gifts).



> For Power-Bottom-Barba's birthday — Happy B-Day! He requested: "Rafael buys Sonny clothes because Rafael is a fashion gay and Sonny is a tall, pretty fashion doll."
> 
> I literally couldn't have strayed further from that.
> 
> Set during/around Season 18, Episode 3, "Imposter", solely because of that one line from Amanda. Thanks to AHF for the beta!
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

"Do I look like a cop?"

Barba glanced up to blink at Carisi standing in the doorway of his office. "I feel like that's a trick question," he said slowly. "Also, thank you as always for knocking."

Carisi ignored him, pacing inside his office and looking more on edge than Barba had seen him recently. He paused, glanced over at Barba, and shook his head. "This was stupid," he said abruptly, turning to leave.

"Hang on," Barba said, half-rising from his seat. "What the hell is going on, Detective? Stupid or otherwise, you can't just barge into my office, ask an asinine question and then not even do me the courtesy of offering me an explanation."

Carisi sighed and drew a hand across his face. "You know how I have that interview today?"

Barba glanced up at the clock to ensure Carisi wasn't going to miss said interview with wherever this conversation was headed and nodded. "Yes."

"I asked Amanda how I looked, right? 'Cause I know you went out on a limb to line this up for me and I don't wanna completely screw it up. And, uh, she said I look like a cop."

Barba stared at him. "I hate to state the obvious, but you are a cop."

Carisi glared at him. "I know that," he snapped. "But..."

He trailed off and shook his head. "I told you," he mumbled. "It was dumb."

Barba hid a smile, only because he assumed it wouldn’t help Carisi to laugh at him. “So Amanda said that you dress like a cop and this has apparently inspired a crisis of confidence?” he surmised.

Carisi shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t just that,” he said, a little uncomfortably. "I, uh, I overheard some lawyers talking not too long ago and, uh, one of 'em said something—"

"It was Buchanan," Barba interrupted with confidence. "You can say it, it's fine."

Carisi rolled his eyes but continued as if Barba hadn't said anything. "So one of them says—"

"Seriously, you can say it was Buchanan," Barba said with a grin. Carisi gave him a look and Barba's grin faded. "It wasn't Buchanan, was it?"

"No," Carisi said shortly, not meeting his eyes. "One of 'em made a comment about, uh, my 'bargain rack' charm..."

He trailed off and Barba's stomach clenched. "Funny," he said, even though there was nothing remotely amusing about it. "That almost sounds like something I would say."

Because it was.

Because Barba could remember saying it.

“Right,” Carisi said, still not meeting his eyes. “And so I figured, between that and what Amanda said, if being a lawyer is really something I wanna do…”

He trailed off and Barba stood, smoothing the front of his vest as he told Carisi, “Detective, you are perfectly capable of nailing this interview, regardless of your wardrobe. I would never have arranged for this if I didn’t have full confidence in you.” His eyes flickered over Carisi’s appearance. “Polyester blend and all.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Counselor,” Carisi said, laughing lightly. “But this isn’t just about the interview. If I want to be a lawyer, maybe it is time to make a couple of changes, and I figure my wardrobe is a good place to start.”

Barba stared at him critically, and Carisi cracked a grin. “Are you mentally undressing me, Counselor?”

“Mentally dressing you,” Barba corrected. “Look, if it were two years ago, I would absolutely agree that you need some work, but you’ve made impressive progress since then, despite what certain big-mouthed lawyers might say. If, however, you really want someone to help you, I might have some time this weekend.”

Carisi grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

Barba looked at him appraisingly. “First and foremost, I need to see what I’m working with. There’s a high likelihood that you’ve got some good pieces that you just don’t know how to work with.” Carisi seemed like he was trying not to laugh and Barba’s eyes narrowed. “I sound really gay right now, don’t I?”

Carisi laughed. “A little bit, yeah,” he said. “But you’ve never watched Real Housewives with me, so, I really don’t have a leg to stand on there.”

“I should have known you were a reality show gay,” Barba sighed. “Anyway, I need to see your closet. Then we can go shopping for whatever you’re missing. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a date,” Carisi said, before freezing. “I mean, uh, a plan. Not, you know, a date or anything.”

Barba just raised an eyebrow as he sat back down. “Then I’ll plan on seeing you on Saturday.”

“Sure,” Carisi said. “I’ll, uh, I’ll text you my address.”

He turned to leave, pausing when Barba added, “Oh, and Detective?” He turned back and Barba smiled slightly. “Good luck with the interview.”

Carisi broke into a genuine smile. “Thanks,” he said, ducking his head before adding, “See you on Saturday”, and leaving.

Barba sat back in his seat, his expression turning contemplative.

He pretended that all that he was thinking about was the various ways that he could improve Carisi’s wardrobe.

He definitely wasn’t thinking about how right it had felt to hear Carisi call it a date.

* * *

 

“I brought coffee,” Barba said, pressing said cup of coffee into Carisi’s hand as he opened his apartment door on Saturday afternoon.

“Uh, thanks?” Carisi said, blinking from the coffee to him, clearly bemused, as Barba pushed past him and inside. “But you didn’t have to do that. My coffee maker works just fine.”

“It wasn’t fully altruistic,” Barba said, tearing his eyes away from the sight of Carisi in dark jeans and a gray Henley that was just a hair too tight. “I had a feeling I was going to need the extra caffeine.”

Carisi laughed. “You think my wardrobe’s gonna be that bad, huh?” Barba shrugged, and Carisi shook his head and rolled his eyes before jerking his head down the hallway. “Anyway, bedroom’s this way.” He froze. “Uh, I realize what that sounded like—”

“I have a feeling this won’t be the only time you stick your foot in your mouth, Detective,” Barba said blithely, “so let’s just assume there’s a blanket apology and move on.”

He paused in the doorway of Carisi’s bedroom, taking it in. It was...surprising, and Barba realized he had rather foolishly assumed Carisi’s bedroom would look like a college student’s.

It didn’t.

His king-size bed was made with a crisp gray and white duvet, and his walnut bedroom set matched his hardwood floors nicely. “Problem, Counselor?” Carisi asked from behind him, and Barba startled, almost slopping his coffee on himself.

“Just wondering where you’ve hidden all your dirty clothes,” he sniped, moving into the bedroom.

Carisi laughed and sat down on the edge of his bed. “They’re in the hamper,” he said helpfully. “And the closet is, uh, right there.”

“Thank you, Carisi, because I couldn’t figure that out for myself.”  

He crossed to the closet and cautiously opened it, finding himself once again pleasantly surprised. The closet was small and cramped, standard for Manhattan, but seemingly well organized, with suits and shirts hung by color, ties draped over a pants hanger and t-shirts and long-sleeved shirts stacked neatly on the shelf at the top of the closet.

“So where do you wanna start?” Carisi asked, and Barba glanced back at him, trying not to stare as Carisi stretched and his shirt rode up a few inches.

He tore his eyes away and looked back at the closets. “Well, we’re going to have to have a tailor take your measurements, since I think your suit size is a little off still—” He held up a jacket and frowned. “There’s no way you’re a 42, Carisi, come on.”

Carisi shrugged. “Well, my ma always said to buy it a little big so that I could grow into it.”

Barba raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, that was sound advice for your Confirmation suit, but…” He replaced the jacket and looked back at Carisi. “So I figured we should start by getting rid of a few items that I never personally want to see you where again to figure out what we should get to replace them.”

Carisi leaned forward. “Like what?” he asked.

“This tie, to start with,” Barba said, grabbing one of Carisi’s more hideous ties from where it was hanging and dropping it on the floor with the full disgust it deserved. “And I’m sure I can find more.”

Carisi rolled his eyes and laughed. “Well, feel free to get rid of whatever you want,” he said comfortably.

Barba nodded and ducked back into Carisi’s closet. A moment later, he let out a noise like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and he reemerged, clutching something in his hand. “Please tell me this is not what I think this is.”

“Uh,” Carisi said, his face flushing beet red when he realized what it was.

“Please tell me this is not an Ed Hardy shirt,” Barba said.

“Look,” Carisi started, but Barba didn’t let him finish, letting out a wounded noise.

“Please, for the love of God, do _not_ tell me you went through a Guido phase.”

“I wouldn’t call it a _phase_ ,” Carisi hedged. “A moment, more like, when Jersey Shore first came out and—”

“Oh my God,” Barba groaned. “You were a Guido.”

"Hey, I was 29 years old when the Jersey Shore came out and I wasn't approaching 30 with anything even remotely resembling grace," Carisi said with a laugh, clearly taking far too much pleasure in Barba’s pain. "So I got together with some bros from Staten Island and went down to Seaside and...severely regretted every minute of it.” Barba snorted and shook his head. “I mean, didn't you do something crazy when you were almost 30, just to get it out of your system?"

Barba threw the Ed Hardy shirt in the trash pile. "Sure, but mine didn't involve a spray tan," he snarked.

Carisi grinned at him. "Then what did it involve?"

The corners of Barba's twitched involuntarily toward a smile. "Frosted tips," he said, his cheeks tinged slightly pink as Carisi almost fell over in laughter.

"Please tell me you have pictures," he begged, wiping tears from his eyes.

Barba shrugged. "Show me a picture of you with a spray tan and we'll talk."

"Deal," Carisi said easily.

They spent the next two hours similarly bickering and joking back and forth as Barba sorted his way through the entirety of Carisi’s closet. The trash pile gradually grew, but if Carisi seemed at all perturbed by the callous disregard Barba seemingly had for the vast majority of his clothes, he didn’t let on.

In fact, he seemed downright cheery as Barba finally closed Carisi’s closet door. “So it looks like I’ve got some shopping to do, huh?”

“ _We_ have some shopping to do,” Barba corrected, draining his now stone cold coffee. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Carisi said, almost reluctantly. “But you’ve done so much already—”

“And you want to take the best part away from me?” Barba asked, arching an eyebrow. “Be reasonable, Detective. Or else you’re liable to walk out of the store with another Ed Hardy shirt.”

Carisi laughed as he followed Barba to the door. “That was one time!” he protested, grinning at Barba as they lingered in the doorway. “Besides, I don’t know if I can picture you with frosted tips.”

Barba rolled his eyes. “Thankfully, they didn’t stick around long,” he said dismissively before adding, deliberately casual, “Unlike the belly button piercing. I kept that for a few years.”

He barely managed to contain his grin as he watched all the color drain out of Carisi’s face before he managed, “A _what_ piercing?”

“See you tomorrow, Detective,” Barba said blithely, shutting the door in Carisi’s face and sauntering away.

* * *

 

“Alright, so where are we starting?” Carisi asked, glancing around the store with no small amount of seeming trepidation.

“At the very beginning,” Barba said dryly, “a very good place to start.”

It had its desired effect, as Carisi laughed but also relaxed, just slightly. “And here I thought you couldn’t possibly sound more gay,” he teased, following Barba towards a rack of clothes on the far side of the store. “Then you had to go and quote the Sound of Music on me.”

“Excuse me, there is _nothing_ gay about Rodgers and Hammerstein,” Barba said coldly, before pausing. “I might want to reconsider that.” He reached out and smacked Carisi’s hand as he reached towards a shirt on the rack. “And you might want to reconsider _that_. Who gave you the idea that mustard yellow was your color? Because they should be shot.”

Carisi held his hands up defensively. “Fine, then what do you suggest?”

“Blue,” Barba said instantly. “It’ll bring out your eyes.” He flushed, just slightly, and rushed to add, “And, uh, anything on the cooler end of the spectrum is your friend. From here—” He gestured at the light blue shirts. “—To here.” He indicated the far end of the spectrum.

“Wow,” Carisi said, sounding impressed. “You sound like an expert.”

"I may have watched some old episodes of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy for inspiration," Barba said, the corners of his mouth quirking towards a smile.

Carisi laughed. "Queer Eye for the Queer Guy, more like," he mused. He pawed through the rack of button-down shirts while asking, "Did you hear there's rumors they might be bringing that show back?"

Barba made a face, pulling a t-shirt off the rack and holding it up critically. "Is the remake ever as good as the original?"

"Better a remake than one of those shows that stays on for seasons past when it was good," Carisi pointed out evenly.

"Fair enough," Barba said, putting the t-shirt he'd grabbed back. He glanced at Carisi. "You ready to try some stuff on?"

“I’ve only got, like, two shirts,” Carisi protested, holding up the shirts in his hand. “What about pants?”

Barba pursed his lips slightly. “Your suit pants you’ll deal with when you get remeasured for a suit,” he mused. “And I think you’re fine as far as jeans go. You could do with a pair of skinny pants, I suppose. Something a little more casual that isn’t jeans.”

“I have a pair of khaki cargo pants, I think,” Carisi said with a grin.

“Oh, no,” Barba told him dismissively. “I took those and burned them. For the good of humanity.”

Carisi laughed. “Fine,” he said. “Pants me.” Barba cocked his head and Carisi blushed. “Uh, I mean…”

“Foot, mouth, I get it, Detective.” He pulled a pair of gray pants off the rack and handed them to Carisi. “32x34, by my guess, but I might be off.”

Carisi accepted the pants with a raised eyebrow. “You, uh, you spend a lot of time thinking about my inseam, Counselor?” Barba just raised an eyebrow and Carisi’s blush deepened. “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

He disappeared inside the dressing room and Barba let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. As he waited for Carisi to come back out, he browsed the other racks, pulling out a few items that he thought Carisi might like.

As he was holding up a sweater in the mirror, trying to imagine it on Carisi, he realized something with a low sinking in his stomach.

He had it _bad_.

“I look like a douche, right?”

Barba whirled around, eyes widening when he saw Carisi standing there, wearing the gray pants and a light blue plaid shirt. Carisi held his arms out with a rueful grin, and Barba’s mouth went dry. “Not the word I would use,” he managed.

“No?” Carisi asked doubtfully, turning to look at himself in the mirror, and Barba resisted the urge to fan himself. “I guess it doesn’t look too bad…”

“It looks good, Detective,” Barba said roughly, shoving the clothes he’d picked out at Carisi, avoiding looking at him directly. “Now try these on. I think you’re on the right track.”

“Thanks, Barba,” Carisi said with a soft sort of smile, and Barba couldn’t help but smile back, a little goofily, only to groan and rest his forehead against the mirror as soon as Carisi was out of sight. “Hey, Counselor, I think this shirt might be too tight? Want to come in and take a look?”

It would take a miracle for Barba to make it out of this alive.

“Coming,” he called back, his voice unusually high-pitched, and winced at his word choice.

Apparently Carisi wasn’t the only one who had to worry about sticking his foot in his mouth.

* * *

 

Thankfully, after they parted ways following their little shopping excursion, things between them went roughly back to normal, and Barba tried to pretend like nothing had ever happened.

Something made far more difficult when Carisi came to his office one day dressed in an impeccably fit suit that made Barba choke on his coffee. “What do you think?” Carisi asked brightly, as Barba surreptitiously hacked up a lung. “I went to my tailor, and you were right — I needed to go down a size.”

“Looks good,” Barba managed noncommittally, looking back down at the casefile in front of him without seeing a word of it.

Carisi took a hesitant step closer. “Well, uh, none of it woulda happened without you, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you say to me buying you a drink to say thanks?”

For a moment, Barba almost agreed, but then he decided to finally throw caution to the wind. “Actually, I thought I might take you out for a drink.”

“Ok,” Carisi said slowly. “Uh, why?”

“Because I want to,” Barba said honestly. “Because...I’ve wanted to for awhile.”

Carisi stared at him. “Is...is this a joke?” Barba’s brow furrowed, but Carisi hurried on without letting him say anything. “Because, uh, I remember what you said about me and the bargain rack, and, uh…”

“You didn’t hear the whole conversation,” Barba blurted.

Carisi stared at him. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

“When you overheard me talking about your ‘bargain rack charm’,” Barba said, flushing slightly. “You missed what precipitated that.”

“And, uh, what precipitated that?” Carisi asked, somewhat doubtfully.

Barba avoided looking at him. “O’Dwyer may have been making fun of me,” he muttered. “Because I appear to have a bit of a crush on a certain detective.”

Carisi’s expression was carefully blank. “And when you said I had bargain rack charm?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure you know what deflection is, Detective,” Barba said, his flush deepening.

“So let me get this straight,” Carisi said slowly. “You were making fun of me because...you like me?”

“Well, I intended on having Liv pass you a note after study hall saying as much, but…”

Carisi didn’t seem deterred, his brow furrowing as he frowned at Barba. “So this whole clothes thing…” It was his turn to blush. “Were you, uh, trying to ‘Pretty Woman’ me?”

Barba stared at him. “What?”

“You know, uh, making me acceptable to be seen with you?”

Carisi’s blush had crept all the way down his neck, and Barba was deeply tempted to find out just how far down it went, but he had something to settle first. “Sonny, you’ve never _not_ been acceptable to be seen with me,” he said patiently. “The clothes thing was an excuse for me to spend time with you. Nothing more.”

“Really?” Carisi said doubtfully, even if a smile was threatening at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve _never_ not been acceptable to be seen with you? Because, uh, I think we both know I’ve had some, uh, regrettable looks over the years…”

Barba rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Truthfully? The day we met you had a mustache and a suit that looked like you spent about $50 on it and I still would've gone out with you.”

Carisi's smile was blinding, even if he couldn't help but tease, “What if you had met me when I was wearing the Ed Hardy shirt?”

Barba hesitated. “I was going to save it for Christmas or your birthday as a gag gift, but…” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a long, thin box.

Carisi stared at him. “What…” he started, even as he accepted the box and slowly lifted the lid. He stared down at it before busting out in laughter, almost doubling over as he wheezed. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He lifted the Ed Hardy tie out of the box and Barba grinned. “I couldn’t resist,” he admitted. “Especially since it cost me all of $10.”

Carisi held the tie up against himself. “I dunno, Counselor, I think it’s my color,” he said, and Barba laughed. “But seriously, you’d be seen with me if I was wearing this?”

“Yes,” Barba said honestly, “though part of that's because I honestly don't think you would ever want to wear it. 2009 you, maybe. But you've grown a lot since then, and very little of that had to do with me.” Carisi’s grin widened and Barba couldn’t help but smile back. “So what do you say, Detective? Do you think you can stand to be seen with me?”

“Well, if you twist my arm…” Barba’s eyes narrowed and Carisi laughed. “Yeah, I think I can manage it. So, uh, drinks? Tonight?”

Barba’s smile softened. “Sounds like a date.”


End file.
